Tents by the River, Dreams on the Mountain

The Road Beckons

The dawn of August 23, 2025, broke gently over Ampayon, painting the sky with a faint promise of adventure. At exactly 5AM, I met my friend Chris at the familiar 7/11 store, the kind of place where countless journeys seem to begin. There we found Sir Tristan waiting, his smile steady as always, accompanied by his office mates from the PSWD: Kenjay, Flor, Tiras, Allyn, Paulo, and Sarrah.

The weather was kind to us—no rain, no harsh sun, just the cool breath of morning against our faces. Yet, the road was less merciful. The stretch from Sibagat to Bunawan, Agusan del Sur, was a battlefield of potholes and road repairs. My motorcycle groaned with each bump, and though my speed averaged only 65KPH, the group moved with patience, adjusting to my careful pace.

By 3PM, after long hours of asphalt, dust, and laughter echoing in between, we reached Davao Oriental. But the road still teased us with another hour before our destination. Finally, at 4PM, we stood at the entrance of Darporrt Camp, nestled in Barangay Catmonan, where the river sang softly like a hymn of welcome.

We pitched our tents beside the flowing water, paid our humble ₱300 camping fee, and shared a simple meal. The three pairs of lovebirds in our group slipped into the river for an evening swim, their laughter mingling with the rippling current. I, however, chose a quieter communion—seated on my camping chair, breathing deeply, letting the forest’s hush and the river’s song baptize me into the serenity of nature.

The Climb Within

The next morning, I woke early, my hands busy with the warmth of cooking for the team. Tristan strolled leisurely around camp, soaking in the morning’s cool silence, while the couples cocooned themselves in the comfort of tents, whispering secrets only lovebirds understand.

After breakfast, we broke camp and set our eyes on the challenge ahead: Dinagsaan Peak in Banaybanay, Davao Oriental, land held by the proud Kagan tribe.

At 12:45PM, our feet began the upward journey. The trail was merciless—slopes carved from stone, massive rocks daring us to conquer them, and streams flowing across our path as if to test our determination. My body, unaccustomed to such demands, rebelled with every step. My breathing grew heavy, my muscles burned, and doubts whispered like shadows: “Can you really make it?”

Yet, hiking is life in miniature—each boulder a trial, each steep climb a hardship, each pause a reminder to gather strength. Success, like the peak, is never handed easily; it is wrestled from pain and perseverance.

At 2:45PM, after two hours that felt like wrestling with my own limits, we finally stood atop Dinagsaan Peak. The view was overwhelming—rolling greens and endless skies proclaiming the majesty of God. I could not help but lift my heart in worship, humbled by creation’s grandeur.

We lingered for an hour, then descended carefully, reaching the foot at 5:30PM. Waiting for us was Ate Leah and her husband from Pantukan, Davao de Oro. They welcomed us warmly, guiding us to Sea World Oasis, a charming resort where the sea whispered just beyond.

For only ₱150 per head, we camped by the swimming pool, later savoring a sumptuous dinner at the resort’s restaurant. While Tristan and the boys competed over billiards and the girls retreated to rest, I surrendered to my body’s protests. With legs aching from the day’s climb, I asked Chris for a massage—a mercy that felt like salvation. Sleep embraced me quickly.

Steps of Grace

Morning broke with renewed strength, the echoes of last night’s pain now quieted by rest and care. Chris and I wandered the resort, capturing fleeting moments with photographs—memories to anchor this fleeting journey.

When the others stirred, another challenge called: the Station of the Cross, towering with more than 600 steps at the entrance of Davao Oriental. At first, hesitation gripped me. My legs still remembered yesterday’s torture, and the stairs seemed endless. But as I joined the team, each step became lighter than I feared. Perhaps resilience grows quietly overnight. By the time we reached the summit, I realized—it wasn’t just the body climbing, but the spirit rising.

After breakfast, we began the long ride home. This time, the road proved fiercer. Heavy rains blurred the path, potholes deepened by water threatened to swallow wheels, and darkness cloaked Agusan del Sur as night fell. Yet, even through these trials, camaraderie carried us forward. Sir Tristan’s steady patience, riding with me until Ampayon, was a reminder that journeys are never meant to be endured alone.

Finally, at 11:45PM, I arrived home—tired, sore, yet fulfilled.

More than Miles

This trip was not merely a ride across provinces or a climb up mountains. It was a pilgrimage of patience, resilience, and faith. The roads taught me endurance; the mountain taught me perseverance; the sea and river whispered peace; and my companions, each in their own way, taught me the joy of shared struggle and laughter.

Travel is never just about the destination—it is about who we become along the way. And in those three days, somewhere between the potholes of Sibagat and the 600 steps of Davao Oriental, I became a little stronger, a little braver, and a little more grateful for the gift of life’s journey.

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